


Physical Endurance

by TheRedHero11037



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Vague, post-Nibelheim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHero11037/pseuds/TheRedHero11037
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m running and running and running. I’m weighed down by his weight, but no material possessions or past, not yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physical Endurance

It’s been ages since I’ve had more than a brief rest. I’ve been running and running through empty plains and giant bluffs and I’ve never been more lonely in my life even though I am running with someone. Unfortunately, “someone” is heavy and catatonic and strapped to my back with a makeshift harness of belts and suspenders because I’m dead friggin’ broke and on the run from I don’t know what. I feel like my shoulders are gonna rip off, poor things. Speaking of poor things, the guy on my back. My friend. I have to get him to safety. I have to make sure he’s safe. He’ll be dead without me.

I want to keep him safe. I want to keep him safe. That’s why I’m still at full-blast across this plain even though my sides are cramping and there are bags under my eyes that I’m not sure will ever go away.

There’s a pond! Hallelujah. I’ve never been religious, but if it’ll keep him safe, I’ll pray to any and every god there is. I slurp so fast I don’t even take the time to taste mud. I pat his cheeks with water and he doesn’t even flinch. I try to make him drink without waterboarding him. He gives no response, but it doesn’t look or sound very much like he’s dying so I continue.

I’m scared, so scared. I’ve been running on instinct and adrenaline and some coffee I found in the trash. Hip hip hooray to me for finding a Double-Double but not a hospital.

His legs are hitting me in the back of the knees again, but I stopped caring about that about the second stretch of highway we crossed. Why do I have to be in the middle of nowhere? Why can’t I find the change for a payphone to call 911? I think again about hitchhiking, but I’m still not fully convinced it’ll work. There’s a voice saying anyone who will pick us up isn’t good, and the good people will be scared off.

I’m running and running and running. I’m weighed down by his weight, but no material possessions or past, not yet. I’m running up the highway screaming help into the wind. I’m searching hard for anything that says there’s a hospital close. He’s heavy and I’m strung out.

Once my legs give out from under me, I’m crawling on my hands and knees on the side of the road. I can do this, I can do this. My breath is squeezing out of me. I struggle back to my feet and fall again. I’ll get him help. I’ll get him help. Up, fall, up, fall.

A million falls later, a yellow pickup truck pulls over to ask what the hell is wrong with me. I say he’s gotta get to the hospital, I’ve been running for four days with him there and I don’t want him to die. He makes me get in the truck. It’s only got one seat but the walls of the bed are high. I make sure he’s comfortably slumped and settle beside him to keep watch.

“This is it,” I whisper to him, “you’re finally safe.”


End file.
